Chapter 8 - THE BROTHER IN THE GRAVE
Aleandro left the kitchen without a word.
Elena followed.
“Where are you going?”
“Family cemetery.”
“At midnight?”
“Yes.”
“That sounds like the beginning of every bad decision in a horror movie.”
He kept walking.
“You’re staying here.”
“No.”
“Elena.”
“My mother’s name is in those documents.”
“Yes.”
“My daughter is being hunted.”
“Yes.”
“And apparently dead brothers are collecting checks.”
“Yes.”
“So stop telling me to stay behind.”
Aleandro turned.
“You have no idea what you’re walking into.”
She stepped closer.
“Neither did my mother.”
That stopped him.
An hour later, rain fell over the private Moretti cemetery.
Aleandro stood before a black granite marker.
RAFFAELE MORETTI
1971–2005
Elena stared at the dates.
“He was your brother?”
“My hero.”
“What happened?”
“Car explosion.”
“You saw the body?”
Aleandro didn’t answer.
“That means no.”
“I saw what remained.”
Marco stood nearby with two guards.
Lucia had stayed behind with Sofia.
Aleandro crouched near the grave.
“Raffaele hated Vittorio. He wanted out of the family.”
“So did Isabella.”
“Yes.”
“Maybe they worked together.”
Aleandro looked at her.
“That thought has been bothering me.”
A pair of headlights appeared beyond the cemetery gate.
Marco drew his weapon.
“Company.”
A black sedan stopped.
An old man stepped out beneath an umbrella.
No guards.
No fear.
Aleandro’s voice changed.
“Father Santino.”
The priest walked toward them.
He looked tired.
Ancient.
“Put the gun away, Marco.”
Marco glanced at Aleandro.
Aleandro nodded.
The priest stopped beside Raffaele’s grave.
“I wondered how long it would take you.”
Aleandro stared.
“You knew?”
“I buried the coffin.”
“Was my brother inside?”
The priest looked toward Elena.
“Who is she?”
“My daughter.”
Father Santino closed his eyes.
“So Isabella succeeded.”
Elena stepped forward.
“You knew my mother?”
“Yes.”
“Then tell me why people are trying to kill my child.”
The priest took a breath.
“Because Isabella kept something they need.”
“What?”
“Not the ledger.”
Aleandro frowned.
“Then what?”
“Proof.”
“Of what?”
Father Santino looked at the grave.
“That Vittorio Moretti was not the man controlling the organization.”
Aleandro laughed once.
“That’s impossible.”
“No.”
“My father gave every order.”
“Orders he was told to give.”
“By whom?”
The priest looked directly at him.
“Raffaele.”
The rain seemed to stop.
Aleandro’s expression went blank.
“My brother hated the business.”
“He hated being beneath your father.”
“No.”
“He planned the explosion himself.”
Elena stared.
“So he faked his death?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To disappear until Vittorio was gone.”
Aleandro’s face hardened.
“My father died three years later.”
“Yes.”
“Then Raffaele could have returned.”
“He did.”
Aleandro stepped closer.
“Where is he?”
Father Santino lowered his umbrella.
Water streamed down his face.
“Closer than you think.”
A red laser dot suddenly appeared on the priest’s chest.
Elena saw it first.
“DOWN!”
The shot cracked.
Father Santino jerked backward.
Aleandro caught him before he hit the ground.
Blood spread across the priest’s shirt.
“No!”
Marco opened fire toward the tree line.
Elena dropped behind the grave.
Aleandro held the dying priest.
“Who sent them?” he demanded.
Santino coughed blood.
“Raffaele…”
“Where is he?”
The priest struggled for breath.
“He never… left the family.”
Aleandro leaned closer.
“Who is he?”
Father Santino whispered two words.
Aleandro froze.
Then the priest died in his arms.
Elena crawled closer.
“What did he say?”
Aleandro looked up.
May you like
For the first time, Elena saw pure betrayal in his eyes.
“He said Marco.”
